Mine Tomorrow

No. They were married.

Chapter Three

Gregory pulled back slowly. He smiled again as he stared into the face of the woman he loved. The woman he’d worried he might never see again. She looked as dazed and relieved as he felt.

“It’s been a long time,” he told her. “I wasn’t sure…I wasn’t sure you would be here.”

“Where else would I be?” she asked.

Her confusion seemed genuine. Maybe she wanted to forget the tension that had existed between them before he’d shipped out. Gregory knew he did. It had weighed heavily on him during his entire deployment, intensifying after her letters had stopped. He pulled her into his arms again, rested his cheek against her temple.

“Nowhere,” he mumbled into her hair. “This is where you belong, Devin. Right here. Forever.”

Afterward, Gregory took her hands. His thumb rubbed against something hard on her third finger. He lifted her hand and studied the cheap, silver-plated band he’d placed there not all that long ago. Her eyes widened fractionally.

“I know it’s nothing special,” he said on a self-conscious chuckle. “Don’t worry, I’ll make good on my promise.”

She glanced up. “Your promise?”

“To buy you a nicer one. I said I would as soon as I got back. There wasn’t enough time before I shipped out. Everything between us happened so fast.”

Devin nodded as she fingered the ring. Her expression bordered on reverence.

“Do you…do you believe in love at first sight?” she asked so softly that he had to bend closer to hear.

“I didn’t,” he admitted, “until I saw you.”

“I know. I—”

Devin’s words were cut short when a sailor bumped into her. He apologized, and then both he and his companion stopped to salute Gregory, who saluted them back.

“It’s a great day, sir!” the first sailor said.

“A great day,” Gregory agreed. His gaze was on Devin. She was here. She’d come back to him.

“Better hold tight to your girl, Captain,” the other said. “There’s a guy back there kissing every woman he sees.”

Gregory glanced about. Times Square was jammed with people now.

“Thanks for the warning, but I can assure you, no one is going to kiss my wife but me.”

The sailors were forgotten when Gregory leaned forward again. This time, the kiss he and Devin shared wasn’t nearly as urgent. He took his time, and she appeared only too happy to let him.

When he finished, he nuzzled her neck, inhaling deeply to take in her perfume.

“You feel so good in my arms.”

* * *

Devin felt good there, if overly warm. The overcoat she was wearing didn’t help. Suddenly, she became aware of how hot it was outside. She had been dressed for a crisp autumn day, but in her dream it was the height of summer, and New York was steeped in heat.

“I need to take this off before I suffer a heat stroke.”

He frowned, apparently just noticing her cold-weather attire. “Why on earth are you wearing this?”

“I was trying it on,” she replied honestly. “That was before…before all of the commotion. I haven’t had a chance to take it off.”

She stepped back to do so now, but as soon as she attempted to unfasten the buttons, Gregory brushed her hands aside.

On a grin, he said, “Allow me, Mrs. Prescott.”

Mrs. Prescott. The prefix, the moniker, both should have sounded foreign, but they didn’t.

Devin’s mouth went dry as he took over the task. It was ridiculous to feel self-conscious. This was a dream, one in which he was her husband. What’s more, they were standing in a square crowded with people, and he was only helping her take off her overcoat. Still, she did feel self-conscious and almost painfully aware of Gregory as she lowered her gaze and watched him fish first one button and then the next through the holes on the placket until he was finished.

When he slipped the coat from her shoulders, it came as a jolt to realize that she was no longer wearing the wool pants and cream turtleneck she’d had on at the shop—or rather the portion of the dream that had occurred at the shop. Instead, she was garbed in a belted, pale blue dress. The skirt was slim and ended just below her knees. On her feet, a pair of low pumps with a rounded toe had replaced the no-nonsense flats she usually favored.

The dress she remembered from the estate sale. She’d found it in the back of the bedroom closet tucked inside a garment bag. Its condition had been like new. The only hint that it had ever been worn was a tag from the cleaners that was clipped to the inside of its collar. The woman present at the sale had told Devin the dress had belonged to the late owner’s wife, as had all of the other women’s garments, accessories and jewelry Devin purchased. A wife who had been named Devin and who, for whatever reason, had left him.

While Devin didn’t recall the shoes, she must have seen them at the sale, as well. Like the other period details, she’d plucked them from her subconscious.

Gregory took the coat and draped it over his arm. His gaze swept down, lingered in appreciation. “You wore the dress.”

She wasn’t sure how to reply, so she said, “It’s so pretty.”

Which was true enough. Something this gorgeous and well made wouldn’t last a day in her shop before a customer snatched it up. Would she sell it? After this dream, that seemed highly doubtful.

“God, you’re beautiful. Even more beautiful than I remembered.”

The remark, said with such vehemence, left her flattered if a bit envious. He had memories of her, where as the only memories Devin had of him were from her dreams. Dreams such as this one. Except…

Suddenly, images of the two of them together, smiling and laughing, drifted into focus in her mind. She’d been wearing this very dress, holding a small bouquet of flowers. He’d been clad in uniform again, a white rosebud pinned to his lapel. Just as she’d known his name earlier, now she was certain this foggy memory—if that was what it could be called—was of their wedding day.

“The courthouse,” she murmured. A judge had performed the simple civil ceremony.

I now pronounce you man and wife…

“Devin? Are you all right?”

She rubbed her temple. “This is crazy.”

“The world does seem to have gone mad,” he agreed on a shaky laugh as he glanced around the square.

“Have we?”

If Gregory found her question strange, he answered it nonetheless. “Maybe. Do you care?”

“Right now? No.”